A Shadow in the Dark
by SeraphAnaklusmos
Summary: Elizaveta is dead. She's been dead for years. No one can see her, no one can hear her. It's lonely being a ghost, so when an Austrian boy moves into her old room, she can't resist the chance of being seen again. Modern AU Pairings: AusHun, UKUS, GerIta, SwisLiech
1. Elizaveta I

_**Hello my lovelies! Here we are with another story, and this one I intend to stick with!**_

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**Elizaveta**

Look, before we get started here, let me make things clear. My name is Elizaveta, and I'm seventeen. I've been seventeen for a while now. Why is that, you may ask? Because I'm dead. I've been dead for quite some time. I was born in 1956 in Budapest, Hungary. When I was five, my parents and I came to America. In 1973, a few weeks after I turned seventeen, a tornado hit, killing my mother and I with a falling beam. My dad was at work, so he came home that day to a dead wife, and a dead daughter. My mom died instantly, I wasn't so lucky. It hurt like hell, let me tell you. But when I died, I didn't... leave, as you would put it.

Yep, I'm a ghost. I think it's been around fifty years or so since I died, and I have yet to meet a person who can see me. Other ghosts though, I've met. You can almost see through them- us, I mean. Some of them- and by that I mean ol' Mary down by the church, she died in the 1700's- say that if a person gets a hold of a ghost's most prized possession, and their death certificate, they could see that ghost. Weird, right?

But being dead is kind of lonely, so when the cute Austrian boy moved into my old room, I had hopes of getting seen.

The plan was simple, plant my journal in a loose floorboard, making it easy to find. He'd read it, hopefully get curious, and find my certificate.

Maybe I was just setting myself up for disappointment, but I was willing to try.

I wanted to be seen, so that's what I was determined to get.

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It took half an hour to set the plan into motion. I unscrewed the nails on the floorboard- ghosts can move things, you know.- and set the diary in it, along with my school picture from the year I died. I checked to make sure the ink hadn't faded, and if it had, I traced it in another pen of somewhat the same color.

When he got home from school- I'd learned he was my age- I sat on his bed, which was rather comfy, and waited for him to notice the squeak when he stepped on the loose board. He flung his bag onto the bed- right through me, I might add- and stepped on the board, yelping in surprise when it made a high-pitched wailing.

He bent down, prying it up, and pulling out the journal, flipping through it. He did what I'd hoped he would do, and sat down to read it.

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It took him most of that night to get through it. He'd laughed, made faces, and cringed as he read it. I'd always wondered how my life would seem to another person, and, in a strange way, I kind of got to see.

Last he got to the picture. I would never call myself beautiful; I had long, wavy brown hair I'd always stuck a flower in, and green eyes; but that was the word he said when he laid eyes on the black-and-white photograph.

_Odd_, I thought, _Thinking a dead girl was beautiful. _

I followed him as he walked downstairs to grab a sandwich and his laptop, followed him back up the stairs, and hovered over his shoulder as he googled my name, Elizaveta Héderváry, and scanned through the list of articles. The one he clicked was at the very bottom, an article from the school's paper, the same article that had announced to the students that I had died.

He read it, mouthing the words as he went:

"_Tragedy struck as well as last weeks tornado, injuring many, destroying houses, but the most tragic event of this disaster was the death of junior Elizaveta Héderváry and her mother. The funeral shall be next Thursday, and anyone who wishes to attend the funeral should contact…_"

In my opinion, it was all rather fanciful, though most of the school attended my funeral, which was quite the surprise. I mean, I was nice to everyone, but I wouldn't have thought myself a popular person.

I glanced back to Roderich, and to my surprise, his eyes were shining, like he was… almost like he was crying. Crying for a girl he never knew. How odd.

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_**Chapter one complete! If you'd like, tell me what you thought with a review! You can also do me a favor by clicking that lovely favorite and follow button! Thank you thank you thank you! I really do hope you've enjoyed this, the next chapter shall be up within sometime this week! **_

_**Your's truly,**_

_**Seraph**_


	2. Outside I

**I'm sorry.**** I know I promised an update in a week, but I had finals- still do- and I had to study for those. And though it may shock you, I do have friends, and we had plans and stuff. Anyways, thank you for the follows, favorites, and the lovely reviews!**

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"Hey Vettie!"

Elizaveta turned, grinning. "Hey Gilbert."

The albino smirked at her, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Still stalking your neighbor?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it _stalking_." She laughed, giving the fellow ghost a hug.

Gilbert, she'd learned, had died when he was seventeen, when a fire caught in his basement. That had been in the 1940's, but he opted for more modern clothes, as she did. Red-and-black checkered scarf, white tee, black jeans. His family had moved from Germany right before the war started, and it was common knowledge that the fatal fire had been no accident.

"Ja, whatever you say. Have you made any progress?"

She sighed. She had not, in fact, made any progress at all. Roderich had yet to see her- which was quite irritating- but he still reread parts of her diary from time to time, which she found odd.

"I take that as a no," the German grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, he's bound to get the Sight at some point."

The "Sight" is what the ghosts around town had decided to call the ability when people- living people, just to be clear- could see the dead around them.

"I hope so. It's been so long since I've talked to anyone breathing." Elizaveta smoothed her skirt anxiously, a nice blue-and-green plaid that went just above her knees.

"Technically, we breathe, Lizzy. We don't really _need _to, but we can." Gilbert smirked.

She flicked his nose.

* * *

Roderich always felt as if someone were watching him. Which was totally strange, because he was completely ordinary. Why would anyone want to watch him?

Still...

There was also the matter of the diary. He knew it hadn't been there when he first moved in- he was sure of it. Someone had to have put it there, or... No, someone must have been playing a game of screw with the new kid.

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As he watched her go, Gilbert felt a pang of longing. Sure, he knew being dead kind of put a damper on things, but he had still hoped she might have felt the same for him.

He sighed, watching Elizaveta make her way back to her old house, back to that Austrian boy she so hoped would see her. And why? Why him? Was Gilbert not enough for her? He shook his head; he needed to be getting back to the cemetery- his brother Ludwig, also deceased, would worry about him.

As he made his way back, he spotted the boy. What was his name? Roderich? Yeah, Roderich. Maybe it was time to find out what was so special about him.

And why did he keep looking over his shoulder, almost guilty-looking?

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When Elizaveta got "home", no one else was there, which she found odd. The mother didn't work, and the father had the day off. More importantly, Roderich was out of school. She wandered aimlessly throughout the house, pondering the possibilities of where everyone could be. The shop? No.. Out for dinner? But the mother said she was to be cooking pot roast. How odd. It was almost as if...

Almost as if they vanished.

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**And there ya have it for chapter two! I'm done with school, so hopefully it won't take me more than a few days to update- though I do have to study for my driving temps test, and actually take it. We'll just have to wait and see, eh? Thank you for reading! If you liked it, favorite, follow, and/or drop me a review! **

**Yours in fangirlishness,**

**Seraph**


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